


Huntress

by Kiatheinsomniac



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Assassin's Creed II, Assassins, Carnevale, F/M, Ghosts, Halloween AU, Halloween Special, Templars, This was written as a Halloween special, Vampire AU, Vampires, Venice, Witches, Younger Ezio Auditore da Firenze, but we're all stuck indoors, it's october 2020, so I thought I'd give you all some content, so it's a halloween special again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiatheinsomniac/pseuds/Kiatheinsomniac
Summary: A huntress of the supernatural, (Y/n) (L/n), is called to Venice in order to investigate the mysterious circumstances surrounding the murder of the Doge's niece. Her journey is a long one with twists she did not expect so very close to what seemed to be its ending. Her true identity will come to light and her thirst for vengeance will only last so long against desire when she finds herself allied with the very murderer that she was called to execute. Willpower will be tested when she'd thrown into the middle of inner conflict and a centuries-old war.
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Reader
Kudos: 13





	1. Entry to Venice

(Y/n) stood before the tall, barred gates of the Doge's extravagant Venitian home. The marvellous building stood tall above the series of murky canals and was decorated with beautifully intricate architecture such as detailed carvings into ledges, windowsills and balcony doorframes. The cold iron of the gates wound and swirled together into a twisting design and was painted a shimmering gold at the top. It was nothing short of wondrous with its polished white walls and glimmering tall windows, each corner decorated by a staggered brick design. Even the gardens were splashed with colour from vibrant flowers and tidy orange trees - though, these bore few petals or fruits at this time of year. The shining sun only made the white mansion stand out even more, making the marble building glow almost in the autumn sunlight.

(Y/n) wore a large rimmed black hat on her head that shadowed her face and rested on her neatly braided hair. Her (h/l)-length (h/c) locks were tied back into two incredibly voluminous faux braids that could not seem to decide if they wanted to tumble along her back or rest on her shoulders. She wore a white blouse with a black corset that covered her stomach and was tucked under her breasts - this laced up at the front and had straps going over her shoulders. She wore black trousers that hugged her legs and tucked into worn-out leather boots that reached mid-calf. A thick grey cloak was wrapped securely around her to chase away the cold. She clutched a bag in each of her (s/t) hands. Various weapons were strapped to her: a sword at her hip, a dagger in a sheath on her thigh and a crossbow slung over her back with a black strap.

The two guards posted at the gates eyed her (and her weapons) warily, never having seen a woman dressed like this before.

"I'm here to investigate a murder by request of the Doge." She stated simply, placing down one of her bags and reaching into her pocket for a somewhat crumpled piece of paper, holding it out for the guard to take. Both humour and suspicion danced in the armoured man's brown eyes.

"He sent for a woman to investigate the murder of his niece?" The middle-aged guard scoffed in disbelief, not even bothering to examine the letter that the woman offered him as proof of her being invited. He simply brushed her off as a common thief with a lot of guts and a ridiculous story.

"He sent for a witch hunter." She put simply, tilting her chin up so that her (e/c) eyes were illuminated by the light and all the seriousness and impatience that they contained, simmering like a cauldron ready to boil over. She had heard the disdainful remarks too many times before in her unorthodox line of work, "And I have travelled a long way so unless you intend on paying my fare back to where I have come from and explaining to your master why I did not meet with him, I would suggest you take a look at this wax seal and allow me entry, signore." She spoke with a voice that was both sweet and venomous. The guard snatched the paper from her hands, outraged by the woman's determination and calm demeanour, examining the letter before huffing as he recognised the official seal of his employer. Upset that he had been wrong and now had to allow this stranger to triumph, he pushed the gate open, holding it while the confident woman briskly walked over the gravel garden path and to the door of the flamboyant marble manor, the stones crunching under her feet and mixing with the patrol of guards and a crowd somewhere in the distance a few streets down.

She lifted the door-knocker and let it heavily fall twice in a row before waiting patiently outside, albeit eager to sit by the warmth of a crackling amber fire after such a long and tiresome journey. A brunette maid opened the heavy wooden door and ushered the (h/c)-haired woman inside, having been told by the master of the house that a witch hunter would be coming to investigate the murder that had sent chills through all of Venice as word had quickly spread of the unusual condition in which the body was discovered during the late hours of the morning.

"Right this way, signorina." The meek maid spoke quietly. The soles of their shoes tapped against the polished checkered floor as they were led through the centre of the lavish home.

The mansion seemed to be built in a circuit-like fashion. It was square, tall and had a garden in the centre of it. (Y/n) tilted her head up to catch a glimpse at the sky seeing as the grey-tiled roof also followed this circuit pattern. It was a nice day for Autumn; fairly cold but sunny nonetheless. She lowered her head, now shadowed by her hat once more, and kept on following the olive-skinned servant as she led (Y/n) along the route that ended with the door of a study.

(Y/n) could hear faint sobbing and slowed her pace to peek into what looked like a living room. There was a married couple, nearing their fifties, dressed all in white - the colour of mourning. The woman had a veil over her face and held a handkerchief to her mouth as she sobbed. Her husband had a distant look in his eyes as he consoled her by rubbing her back with his hand as she watched the flames of the fire dance in the fireplace. (Y/n) concluded that these were the parents of the murder victim.

"The Doge is in there, signorina." The servant spoke, eyes lowered, before scurrying off. She was a youthful girl, very young, but clearly good at following orders and fulfilling her job.

(Y/n) raised her fist to knock on the door; the knock fit her aura: firm and authoritative.

"Enter!" A voice called from inside, it sounded tired and weary. (Y/n) used one hand to push open the door as the other held both of her bags at once. The Doge was a man nearing his elderly years. His hair was dappled with streaks of grey and he had wrinkles adorning his forehead and under his eyes which were shadowed by dark rings, born from lack of sleep. He examined her odd state of dress and numerous weapons then inferred who she must be.

"You are the witch hunter?" He spoke, rising from his seat to greet her.

"Indeed." She bowed her head to him before placing her bags down. "But allow us to get straight to business - you believe that your niece was killed by a vampire, no? That is what you described in your letter to me."

"Yes, almost all of Venice believes there is a vampire prowling its streets with the odd killings that seem to be occurring by night." He answered.

"I would like if you could gather the witnesses you spoke of - I'll need to question them. Where is the body being kept? I understand that my journey has kept me for some time." She spoke as she lifted both of her bags once more, ready to be led to the crime scene.

"Poor Elizabetta is being kept in the wine cellar - a horrific smell began to plague the house." He explained as he began to lead her downstairs.

"When I am done, you should bury the body - a corpse is terrible for the health of the living and, if not for the manner of her death and situation at hand, it would be very disrespectful to not have buried her by now." The hunter explained as they made their way down the winding steps that led to the cellar. As they made their way across a corridor, (Y/n) scrunched up her nose at the familiar stench of death, reaching into her pocket for a handkerchief to cover her nose and mouth with. The scent coiled like a serpent through the air, looking for its next victim from the shadows of the dimly lit cellar.

Candlelight from wall-mounted torches flickered across the walls, licking along the uneven edges of age-old cobbles that built up the narrow, low-ceilinged, winding staircase which led down into the basement. (Y/n) could feel it grow colder, unlike the mansion above which was heated by various fireplaces which the servants attended to.

Eventually, the staircase turned into a very short corridor with an old wooden door at the very end of it. It was made of old planks and had worn iron keeping it all together.

"I can't bear to see my little Eliza in that state, please." The Doge held open the door for (Y/n) who nodded her head in solemn understanding for his grievances.

As soon as she stepped inside, the smell was enough to make her feel as though she could vomit. It made her hold her breath for periods of time just to avoid having to take in the horrendous stench. There were barrels and bottles of wine in neat shelves on either side of the room but in the middle, right opposite the door, there was a table covered by a cloth with the shape of a body under the sheet of fabric.

(Y/n) pushed the cloth back to reveal a young woman. She may have been beautiful once but now her skin was deathly pale and rotting in areas. Her hair was tangled and she was utterly devoid of life - a decomposing shell of the rich young woman she had once been. Her eyes were closed out of respect and the inner corners swam with tiny maggots. (Y/n) was not unfamiliar with such grotesque sights but that did not mean that they did not make her feel utterly disgusted.

Wanting to leave the corpse as quickly as possible, she inspected the two puncture marks on her neck. She had seen these many times before - the distinct bite marks of what had been a vampire's meal. She used one hand to reach into her bag for a small vial, popping off the cork with her thumb before pressing it against one of the punctures. Thick blood, no longer red but a sickly, thick brown, oozed out like mud and into the tiny glass bottle. The fact that there was even blood remaining gave the Witch Hunter a better insight as to what had happened: either the vampire had killed someone else that night and only needed a little more fill from this particular victim or the creature was in a hurry. What would cause them to rush? Being discovered? They were too sly to worry about such a thing and, after a meal, would be fast enough to not even be seen by the human eye anyway. So, if they were in a rush: why?

Once she gathered all that she needed physically, she noted what the victim wore - a white chemise and nothing else. With all of that done, she re-covered the body with the sheet, grabbed her bags, and made her way outside again.

"Thank you, Doge. My apologies that my work has postponed her burial." The witch hunter spoke to convey the fact that she no longer needed to examine the body.

"She will be buried in the morning." He spoke in a flat tone, the tone of someone in immense emotional pain.

"May I ask a few questions as we walk?" She prompted.

"Whatever you need to capture the unholy beast that did this to my poor niece." He replied, "It is why I sent for you, after all."

"She was wearing only a chemise - does this mean that she was killed in her sleep?" (Y/n) quizzed as they made their way all the way back up the narrow, winding, stairwell.

"She had just come back from a ball - she was invited by a friend of hers. They say that she had been dancing with an unfamiliar man that evening and he offered to escort her home. Both of her friends (who I have here for you to question as witnesses) claim that they did not see the man as dangerous; they claim he was incredibly polite and charming and he seemed to truly care about whether or not Elizabetta got home safely." He began, "He must have escorted her home then come inside to kill her when she was changing - we found her wearing nothing at all and dressed her for the sake of dignity for your inspection." (Y/n) hummed thoughtfully.

"You are sure that she did not elope with the vampire?" She quizzed, one of her braids falling from her shoulder.

"Do not insult my Eliza that way!" The Doge spun around to look down at (Y/n) who was standing two steps lower than he was, "She was a pure girl!"

"And, as your witnesses have described, vampires can be very tempting, Doge." She spoke with a tone that showed he had to understand what he was saying despite what he believed about his niece, "She may have thought she was allowing him willingly when really, he was controlling her, leading her mind away so she would want to agree when, truly, she knew better." The Doge turned back around and continued on up the stairs once more.

"Say what you will, I will not believe that Elizabetta was involved in such an atrocious act." He grumbled as they both re-emerged at ground level. "Follow me, I shall lead you to Eliza's room where she was found then you may question her friends who were there the night it happened."

"Thank you," (Y/n) replied to show she had heard him. He led her up one of the staircases of the inner garden to take her to the upper floor which was a corridor and balcony looking down onto the garden with all the doors to the rooms in plain sight.

"This one is hers - aside from moving her body, nothing else has been tampered with as far as I am aware." He explained. Again, he stood outside and allowed (Y/n) to investigate without getting in her way.

What was most prominent in the room were three pieces of furniture: the large forest green canopy bed on the slight platform in the far-left corner, the large silver-backed mirror that rested on the vanity opposite it and the white carpet.

The carpet was an exception, however. The mirror and bed stuck out because they were such expensive and lavish pieces of the room. This carpet stood out because it was stained the light brown of dried blood in the middle.

(Y/n) looked around the room some more. Behind the door was a big black banner bearing a crimson cross. It seemed familiar and she took a few seconds to think it over. The same banners had been present in the Doge's study on either side above his large desk. A family symbol perhaps? A political one? She did not know. 

(Y/n) examined the bloodstain on the floor as her first piece of evidence. It was dried and it only made her wish that she had been able to travel to Venice much sooner, perhaps she would be able to be closer on this vampire's trail.

There was a terrible aura in the air, one of despair and hopelessness that seemed to linger. Was it simply the destruction that had been left by the vampire? Or perhaps it was the victim's ghost lingering? (Y/n) glanced around the room: she could neither see nor sense a ghost.

She got up to open the window, intending for the wind to cleanse the terrible energy that still lingered from the supernatural murder. She popped the latch and pushed the glass open only to spot bloody fingerprints on the window.

"Doge?" She called, turning back to face where he waited just outside the door.

"Yes?"

"Did you find the window open at the same time the body was discovered?" The Doge entered the room and stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I cannot say — it was her friends who got here first, perhaps they can tell you?" (Y/n) cast another glance around the room.

"I believe it's time I began my interrogation."


	2. Open Investigation

(Y/n)'s (e/c) eyes flickered between the two women who were seated before her.

The one on the left was blonde with curled hair that cascaded in ringlets over her shoulders, complimenting her tanned skin. Her face bore dark brown eyes that glimmered with sparkling tears, they reminded (Y/n) of a lost fawn. She wore an elegant grey dress with detailed beading and a white front and clutched a tear-stained handkerchief in her left hand. She looked as though she had hardly slept since the murder. This one was Lucia - the daughter of a Duca and Duchessa from Venice.

The second was much darker-skinned. She had her ink-black hair parted down the middle with the upper half of her locks styled up in a bun. She wore a white dress with a red sash around the middle and embroidery over the skirt of it. Wrapped around her shoulders was a cascading cloak with all the detail of a tapestry and embroidered with patterned glass beads. She wore a golden circlet and red veil that was attached with a clip at the back of her head. Many earrings and bracelets, as well as a golden necklace, flaunted her wealth. This was Halime, the daughter of a very successful and wealthy Ottoman trader. She was very tired too and had been awoken from sleep to talk with the Witch Hunter. A cup of coffee was clutched in her hands to assist in rousing her sleep-fogged mind.

"I need every detail that you can remember about that man and anything that felt different about that night, what made it out of the ordinary aside from the murder?" (Y/n) questioned as she dipped a quill in some ink and poised it over some parchment.

"It was just another street party." Lucia began, "We go to them all the time. This one was in the piazza down the street. It started off perfectly fine but then he showed up. He wore white robes and a red belt with a symbol that looked like an arrow pointing up on it." (Y/n) scribbled this down in her cursive handwriting. "He was so handsome that you could have wondered if one of the old Roman gods had returned to walk the earth, I suppose that this foolishly made us put our guards down."

"Yes, vampires tend to be very attractive: it's what lures their prey into a false sense of security, it makes them desirable. Carry on."

"He was an excellent dancer. I was rather shocked that Elizabetta was dancing so well with him: it's no secret that she was not a very good dancer." Lucia paused, "I couldn't wrap my head around it but I ignored the red flag because I had no reason to sense that something supernatural was happening at the time."

"It was like she was a puppet on strings. . ." Halime spoke up in a soft voice, staring at the steam coming off her dark coffee, "Like he was controlling her, had her hypnotised. . . Can they do that?" There was a silence while (Y/n) noted down, what she believed to be, key information.

"Yes and that makes this vampire very dangerous; he is clearly very powerful. They all have simple powers, ones to help lure in prey. But some have their own unique abilities - it's rare to ever hear of vampires with the same personal ability. I hope that he does not have one. . . Please continue."

"His name was Ezio." Halime carried on, "I overheard him introducing himself to Eliza, I can remember gossiping about it. Eliza was drinking a lot of wine - usually, she would not drink but that night was an exception with him. I swooped in to make sure he wasn't trying to get her drunk and take advantage but he was so charming. He knew of my father's business too so we spoke about that for a while though he admitted to disliking coffee. In fact. . . looking back on it now. . . there was so much food there, so much to drink. . . he didn't touch any of it. . ."

"Human food and drink will make them ill, they can only keep it down for so long before they're sick. I've known one who tried so desperately to be human again - she was turned into a vampire against her will and some villagers were worried she would attack them. I thought I would have to fight her tooth and claw but she called me her angel and accepted death. . . She didn't want to live an immortal life as a monster."

"Do you think that Ezio was turned into one?" Lucia questioned.

"I can't tell yet. He may have been bitten, he may have been born a vampire, he may have traded his soul. I cannot tell as of yet. But, this is an investigation and you two must carry on telling me about the events of that night."

"Yes," Lucia looked to Halime, "I joined them perhaps an hour after he had been talking with Eliza and Halime. Poor Eliza was worried she would get too drunk and asked him to escort her home. We were both very against this, to begin with, but the way he spoke about her and how sincere he looked. . ." A sob escaped her lips, "He was so convincing and if only we'd persisted, she'd still be alive." Her young Ottoman friend turned to embrace her as she sobbed.

"You two found her in her room afterwards when you came to check on her. Was the window open?" (Y/n) quizzed. She felt sorry for the crying Lucia but she had to get her work done if she wanted to stop any more people from dying the way Elizabetta had.

"Yes, I was the one who closed it." Halime nodded her head, her bracelets on her wrists jangling as she ran her hand up and down her weeping friend's back. "We found her naked. . ." She looked to the door and lowered her voice, "Between us three. . . Eliza was not as pure as her family believe her to have been. I knew exactly why she wanted Ezio to escort her home - she wanted him to share her bed."

"I had a feeling that he had slept with her then killed her. It's very common for vampires to do that. Some get the blood pumping with fear, others with pleasure." She noted down Ezio's behaviour. One thing didn't add up. If Ezio had escaped through the window, the heel of the palm of the blood print on the window sill would be facing inwards.

"Thank you for your time, girls. If you remember anything else that you think could be useful, don't hesitate to find me." Halime nodded for both of them while Lucia continued to sob. (Y/n) could see the hollow look in the girl's dark brown eyes as she comforted her friend.

The Witch Hunter made her way outside to the gardens and walked around the wide of the building until she could see Elizabetta's bedroom window. Her (e/c) orbs widened as she squinted against the sun. There was a trail of dirty bootprints on the side of the white wall that led to the balcony two rooms down. He must have held onto the edge of the roof and made his way over! (Y/n) felt an anxiousness loom over her. He was incredibly athletic if this was the case. She attempted to recall the layout of the mansion. That balcony was part of the Doge's study.

Why would a vampire go there if he had an unfinished meal in the other room? It made no sense to (Y/n). She made her way back inside and paused outside the study. She knew that the Doge would not like her snooping around, therefore, she quietly pushed the door open and examined the room. Nothing seemed too out of order at first glance. She made her way over to the balcony and, sure enough, there was a bloody handprint on the rail. He had stopped in here.

(Y/n) pulled a pendulum out of her pocket. She had to find something missing in a room that she was utterly unfamiliar with. She wrapped the silver chain around her knuckles and held it up in the air, keeping her arm perfectly still as she watched the point of clear quartz settle in the air, going still. She looked over her shoulder at the door, making sure that the coast was clear before beginning.

"What did the vampire take?" Nothing happened for three moments before it slowly began moving back and forth, towards a bookshelf that was placed on the left side of the room. The (h/c)-haired female slowly stepped forwards, following the direction which it swung in before she paused in front of one particular part of the shelf. "Thank you. With that said, she pocketed the pendulum and ran her hands over the leather-bound books and volumes. Her eyes slipped shut as she ran her fingertips over the spines before they snapped open and she pulled a red one off the shelf swiftly.

It was old, that much she could tell, and it seemed to buzz in her hands almost - a thrum of energy was tied to it. Though, only someone so in tune with this layer of our reality would be able to tell. Someone like a vampire or a witch hunter. She flipped through the pages: all hand-written about precursors and magical items that she had never heard of before. This shocked her, she was so very well educated in her profession that she was surprised to discover something she didn't know. Her fingers ran along where pages had visibly been torn. Why did the Doge own this book? Why did Ezio want it? (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed and her heart fluttered as she began to get the suspicion that she was out of her depth. There was something going on here that she was not aware of, something that the Doge was hiding.

Something that the vampire wanted.

Her lips parted as a piece of the puzzle in her investigation fell into place. Elizabetta had been Ezio's key inside. Vampires, like many supernatural creatures, could not enter a place unless invited. She had been his way inside and he had not finished drinking her blood because he had his fill, cutting off a loose end at the same time, then attended to the real reason he had come here.

There was no way that she was not going to read through that red book, therefore, she tucked it into the depths of her cloak and walked back out again. This was her new piece of evidence. She could question the victim's parents later. For now, she needed to understand the vampire on the loose, not the corpse.

(Y/n) made her way into her assigned room which she had been showed to earlier. She turned the key in the lock behind her so that she would not be disturbed.

It was a small but snugly furnished room. The large four-poster bed in the close left corner with its red sheets and white pillows took up around a third of it. At the end of the bed was a trunk where her bags were being stored. The far wall bore two tall leaded windows on either side of it. Against the right wall were a table and a vanity. The fireplace was in the middle of the left wall. It had a plush wooden chair and black pillow by it. Candelabras were scattered across the room to provide light at night.

The (s/t)-skinned female unbuckled her dark grey cloak to hang it up on the coat rack by the door then sat by the plush chair in front of the fire, the book in her hands. She paused to look into the flames.

The soft crackling began to ring in her ears, echoing and it quickly became a raging roar of flames at war with firewood. Screams of agony and shrieked prayers rang in her ears, the cheers of a crowd. She could smell smoke and an awful burning as well as dusty hay.

Snapping herself out of it, she sprung from her seat and toed off her boots, curling up on the bed to read instead. Tears pricked at her eyes but she smudged them away quickly, opening the first page of her book in order to try and understand why the vampire wanted it so badly. This one was too important to allow him to get away, for he would be kill number twelve.

Her final victim.

♰♰♰

Series of papers were piled over the desk, some of them pinned to the wall. Ezio's eyes picked apart every piece of information before flickering up to a drawing of his goal:

The Apple of Eden.

He was determined to but this centuries-long war to rest. He had traded his very soul for it, for immortality, for a body that was stronger than a human's in every way, for him to stop wasting time on sleep. The only price was that he would have to drink the blood of humans to survive.

Too many lives had been lost to the war between Assassin and Templar and he intended to put an end to the killing once and for all. He wouldn't have made such a self-sacrifice if he did not believe that he would succeed. He knew that if he could put an apple, he could cause the final killings of the remaining Templars that would put all the bloodshed to an end, that would guarantee freedom of will.

His large hands, olive-toned, skimmed over the papers. trying to organise the mess.

He was inside a singular room: a large one at that. It was high-ceilinged and lit with candles and small fires on intricately carved marble candelabras. The stained glass windows were boarded up, the pews in disarray and many of the statues were covered by dusty sheets. Art, armour, fine jewels and old weapons, as well as books and sketches, were set around the place.

He had set up his workspace at the very back of the abandoned church where the altar had once been. There was a large bed with tapestries hung around it to replace the fact that it lacked posts. Rugs were layered on the floor and a case of wine bottles was stacked on the shelf. Well, they had once been used for wine but now they had been repurposed and held blood. He could no longer enjoy wine like he did when he was still the careless young human boy romancing every pretty woman in Florence.

A child laughed behind him before a sheet was pulled from a statue of an angel, causing dust to swirl in the air. The eyes were painted black and the paint ran down the angel's cheeks like demonic tears.

But no one was there.

"I will not tolerate your games." He growled to the daring ghosts of the church who soon fled the room, knocking over a book in the process of leaving. The church was full of wandering spirits, many of which were daring children who were in search of a little fun and entertainment.

But there was one spirit in particular. . .

A laugh resonated throughout the hall. For someone so recently dead, she was very strong. Though, this was simply because she had a direct link to Ezio: killer and victim. Her blood was still in him, after all.

"You won't get away with it. You'll be stopped." The ghost of Elizabetta smirked as she stood perfectly still behind where Ezio was seated at his cluttered desk.

"And who will stop me? Your Templar father?" He sighed, not wanting to entertain the taunting spirit.

"No. But she will." The ghost smirked, "I actually helped her out earlier, she knows what you took and soon enough she'll find out why. My father's hired her to avenge me by ending your supposedly immortal life." Ezio whipped his head around at this, tossing his tied-back dark down hair as he did so. His chestnut orbs glinted with anger and worry as to what the ghost was speaking of. His scarred lips curled down into a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"There's a witch hunter in the city — a very skilled one at that. She's travelled very far because my father would only settle for the best of the best. (Y/n) (L/n) ring a bell?" She smirked. Ezio turner back around and held his head in his hands. No! He had sacrificed too much on this path for some human to end it now!

"Begone! You're not welcome here!" He snapped, not even facing the spirit of Elizabetta who simply giggled as she vanished into smoke, her spirit having to leave the abandoned church now that she had been banned from it. She loved getting under the cold skin of the man who had ended her life so abruptly.

Ezio growled irritably in the dimly-lit room. Surely the spirit was only taunting him? But what if she was telling the truth? He wouldn't put it past the paranoid Dodge to do such a thing. Sighing, he stood from his cushioned seat and made his way towards a door in the corner which led down to the basement of the large church. Upon opening it, a spider scuttled across the stone floor, legs running rapidly over the uneven bricks.

The vampire stepped over the threshold and small, wall-mounted braziers lit up, the oil in them burning silently and causing a soft glow to illuminate the previously pitch-black stairwell. He found himself in a room full of stacks of shelves, dividing the dimly-lit and cluttered room into aisles. Inside the containers of preserving liquids were hearts, lungs, intestines, kidneys, brains, eyes, tongues, fingers and so on. Strings of cobwebs hung from the ceiling and mould was beginning to grow from the dampness that seeped between the bricks.

Closer to the back of the room were scrolls and papers tied with twine, coated in dust. The abundance of books could not fit onto all the shelves so they stacked up in piles, some of them lying open or discarded from where Ezio had ransacked the room for information on the Pieces of Eden or codex pages. Eventually, he made his way to a wooden box, sealed with wax and a sorceress's spell to keep it's magic contents inside.

A hidden blade protruded from Ezio's sleeve with a satisfying 'snnk' and cut along the lid of the box, slicing through the dripped red wax until he could prise the old box open with his hands. Inside, was a thick lock of braided blonde hair, healthy as the day it was cut. Mermaid's hair. It felt soft as sea-foam and smelled of a hot tropical harbour's breeze. They say, that if you capture a mermaid, she can tell you your future because they can read the very waves of the ocean.

But you didn't need the whole creature to do that.

Ezio wound the braid around his hand and whispered under his breath, uttering the question to the blonde tresses which he held mere millimetres from his lips. He needed to know if Elisabetta was bluffing or not and he had to know if this Witch Hunter was a true threat. Usually, he would not take the words of a ghost so seriously but he knew in his gut that something else was amiss here. A woman's voice whispered to him:

"She will find you and she will do everything in her power to kill you. Beware, for she will burn all that stands in the way of vengeance for her sisters."


	3. Worlds Meeting

(Y/n) groggily arose from her bed, the sunlight of a late morning pouring in through the leaded windows, covering her in a blanket of diamond-shaped shadows. Beside her was the book which she had fallen asleep while reading. The thick pillar candle resting on the bedside had melted down three inches, wax pouring down its sides and melting in little dribbles, some of it pooling on the wood of the table.

Licking her thumb and index finger, (Y/n) quickly squeezed the wick to extinguish the flame that had been dancing all night, illuminating the room while she had slept.

She rubbed her (e/c) eyes and pushed back the locks of hair that had escaped her twin faux braids. Sitting up and dangling her legs off the side of the bed, she reached back to begin unweaving her hair, letting the river of (h/c) locks cascade behind her. She dropped all the little pins and bands onto the crumpled crimson sheets under her as she took her hair and began weaving it into dutch braids and winding it around the back of her neck, creating a crown from her own hair.

She stood to discard her clothes, folding them and placing them neatly into the trunk at the end of the bed before pulling out a black pair of trousers, a white blouse and some arm guards.

(Y/n) slid the blouse on first. It had billowing sleeves and turned to lace over the top of her chest, the woven pattern climbing up high on her neck, secured with a bow at her nape. Next, she tugged on the leg-hugging black trousers, tucking the blouse in as she tied up the front of the trousers, pulling the crisscrossing cords into a tight double bow. The (e/c)-eyed female then used her teeth to tighten her ebony arm guards. They made the lace cuffs of the blouse stand out more while the rest of the shirt puffed out against her upper arms. She then pulled on her boots and slung a bag over her shoulder.

Her eyes drifted back to the book.

In her profession, the knew better than to doubt the powers which she had read about on those pages. A previous civilisation, more advanced than our own, sounded ridiculous yet. . . The vampire wouldn't have taken the pages if he didn't believe in it himself or if he hadn't been exposed to one of those 'Pieces of Eden' at some point in his immortal life.

She picked it up and tossed it into her bag. She knew that she couldn't ask the Doge about it because she had stolen it from him and it was something which he was clearly trying to cover up. Her mind wandered for answers. Who in Venice would be about to help her decipher the coded parts of the text without the Doge knowing? The culture was changing, there were so many beautiful and bright minds nowadays.

An alchemist perhaps? A poet? An artist? An engineer? Of course! She knew exactly who to find as she turned the key in the lock and ran out of the mansion in search of the man whom she had just recalled. All she had was a name but with enough asking, she would be able to find him.

♰♰♰

It was a few hours later and (Y/n) found herself rather hungry, having left her room in the Doge's mansion without anything to eat. But eventually, she found herself knocking on the sheltered door of a studio. She pummelled her first insistently against the thick wood until a fairly young boy opened it.

"Hello, I'm looking for Leonardo? Da Vinci?" She peeked inside, attempting to get a better look into the building in order to spot the man himself.

"What for?" The young boy, clearly an apprentice, asked.

"I was told that he could help me to decode an old book that I found." She replied.

"Send her in!" A man called from somewhere inside. The young boy stood aside to allow (Y/n) to enter.

When she walked inside, there were odd contraptions hanging from the ceiling. Architectural drawings were sprawled out across tables and pinned to walls. There were half-finished paintings on easels and jars of murky paint water on stools. Sketches of anatomy were all pinned to the wall above a desk with very detailed charcoal drawings on it. Though, the windows were covered by sheets and it was oddly dark, candles lighting the place.

She was met by a blonde man with blue eyes who was rather short and wore a large hat.

But he wasn't the only person in the room.

Instantly, (Y/n) knew what this other man was. Whether he was the vampire she was searching for or a much more discreet one whom she didn't know of, she was unsure.

He was gorgeous. Flawless olive skin, glimmering brown eyes like polished smokey quartz, dark hair that shone healthily and was tied back. His odd white and red robes hugged his muscular arms, leading you to the conclusion that the rest of his body was very toned too.

When their eyes met, there was a mutual understanding that she knew what he was and he knew that she was the witch hunter.

He seemed caught off guard for a moment before his brows furrowed as he examined her, eyes widening with surprise when he picked up something about her — the last thing he ever would have expected from such a woman.

"Hello Leonardo," she turned to the artist, "My name's (Y/n) (L/n). I know that you don't know me but I've been told that you could help me decipher this book and I could really do with some help. It's for a case I'm working on and it would mean a lot to me. I can pay you however much you want." It was a risk to work right in front of the creature whom she needed to hunt down but she simply had to understand what was going on.

"Leonardo," Ezio spoke up, "Could you leave us alone for a moment please?"

The artist shot a glance of confusion in the direction of his friend. What was he playing at? Was it to do with the brotherhood? Or was he simply trying to charm the woman? Either way, he nodded and made his way to the garden.

(Y/n)'s hand snaked to the dagger at her hip. She was poorly prepared for a vampire attack, she had not been expecting him to be there — in broad daylight no less!

"You're in over your head." The vampire spoke simply, "I have work I need to do and I don't want you getting in the way. You don't need to die in this. Leave now. Go home and find work elsewhere." He truly did want peace. After all, his goal was to stop the unnecessary killing. He didn't want to kill her but he couldn't have her in the way of his plans either.

"You're right. There are people in this world who don't have to get caught in the crossfire. There are graves belonging to the people who didn't have to die." She lunged towards him and unsheathed her blade, though it was quickly deflected with his hidden blade which shot out from his sleeve. The point of her blade was poised at his chest, hovering over his heart. "And those people will only be avenged once blood has been paid for with blood." Her (e/c) eyes were a maelstrom of anguish and rage, tearing apart cliffs and commanding tidal waves.

"Who hurt you?" The vampire spoke with a gentle voice. But she knew better than to trust the creature's charms. She pulled back and held her dagger in a tight grip, ready to strike at the best moment.

"You. Your kind. Every single one of you." Her brows hung low over her eyes and she shook with adrenaline. "And I won't stop. Not until the price has been paid."

The olive-skinned man let out a sigh as his blade retracted and he raised a hand into the air. (Y/n) suddenly found herself unable to move, frozen in place. The panic was evident on her face.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you." He spoke in a soothing tone, his voice was like thick honey and blackberries with a sweet, fruity wine. But she knew that all those luxuries in his tone were laced with cantarella. 

"You haven't hypnotised me. Why can't I move?"

"It's my unique ability — I can control living things' ability to move. I thought I could control objects at first but it turned out that what I can control is muscle tissue. I could make you do whatever I wanted right now but I think I need you to stay still so that you don't try to kill me." There was a hint of humour in his tone at the end. "I want to understand you. Tell me: why is a witch hunting the supernatural?" His hand caressed the side of her face, brushing the stray lock of hair behind her ear as her body was moved to a more neutral position where she was not poised with a dagger in her clutch.

"Lower your voice!" She hissed. She scrunched her eyes shut as he ran a hand down the artery of her neck. She didn't feel safe. He said that he needed her out of the way earlier and he could very well just drink her blood there and have it over with.

She had never encountered a vampire with such a dangerous ability before. Fire and reading thoughts were worrisome, yes, but to control another person's body? That was deadly on an entirely new level. At the back of her mind, she willed for a spirit to protect her, to wrap its arms around her and repel the vampire who caressed her cheek ever so softly. But no spirit nor fae rushed to her aid.

"There's no need for that." He spoke up, knowing full well what she was trying to do, "Even they know that I won't hurt you." He retracted this hand to let it fall to his side. "Who was taken from you? Why do you blame my kind? Why must this blood price be paid?"

Silence.

"(Y/n), come on, carissima, I won't let you go until I have answers. Are you a solitary witch?"

"I wasn't always solitary." She replied, her walls fracturing, the thought of finally being able to speak too irresistible, "I. . . I lost my sisters. All twelve." His lips parted in sorrow and he reached up to brush a tear that rolled down her cheek. The witch hunter would have pushed his hand away if only she had control over her body. Ezio knew what witches meant by 'sisters'.

"Your coven. . . I know what that's like. I watched my father and brothers be hanged. They didn't deserve it either, they were innocents. My father fought for freedom and my brothers were still boys. I was still a boy. . ." His natural charms were working on her, luring her into safety without him even needing to try.

"I watched them burn and I hid. I was the only one who made it out and I watched every single one of them go up in flames." A sob shook her chest, "And it's the vampires' fault! If they had only kept away from the town then witchcraft would not have been suspected! We never hurt the people! Never! And they turned on us all because a vampire had taken to killing men in the village! They were all innocent! I was innocent!" A long silence followed. ". . . They didn't need to die. . ."

She felt herself crumple to the floor, Ezio no longer needing to control her into their unspoken truce. Instead, he crouched down beside her and held her as she cried. She cried out all of the pain that she had pent up over six years until she dissolved to a hiccuping mess.

All the while, Ezio ran his hand up and down her back and let her press her face into his shoulder. Every part of her screamed to get away from him and yet. . .

She had never felt so right.

No one - no one - had given her any affection in years; no one could hear her story lest she be burned too; no one had held her and told her it was ok and that she didn't need to fight anymore; no one had touched her in so long and, gods, she was so touch-starved that it made her light up and feel alive, like a warm blanket of magma was slipping over her (s/t) skin that had been encased in a glacier for far too long. 

She had kept such intense emotions secret for so many years. They were never spoken aloud, never put to paper. Perhaps it was because she was so close to the end of this long journey that she had put herself on. Perhaps she was just so vulnerable in that respect that she fell right into the arms of the creature who she swore she would kill.

Ezio's hand cradled the back of her neck while she calmed down, fingers caressing her silky (h/c) hair while she gripped onto his robes. He hadn't expected it to be quite this easy, hadn't expected their views to be quite so aligned. His lips pressed against the side of her head where her hairline began, pointed canines running over the skin there as his lips went to hover over her ear.

"We're a lot more alike than you think." He whispered, "I want to stop people from dying in other people's battles just as much as you do. I want freedom for people like you — how frustrating must it be to be human and told you're not? To be made to think you're the supernatural because you're gifted? To fear execution for merely existing?" She sniffled and nuzzled her head into his shoulder where his robes were now tear-stained.

"But if we both want to get what we want, you have to stop helping the Doge. He is a Templar: a man who will stop at nothing for absolute control, slavery of the human race and for freedom of will to be stripped from each and every individual. I am an Assassin: a man who protects freedom, no matter how chaotic it may seem. People like you and I will disappear if the Templars get their way. People like your sisters will die for a cause that they do not know of. People like my family will be killed for standing up for what's right. They will all be killed without a second thought."

(Y/n), beginning to quickly pile up her cold walls again, drew back from him, moving to sit on the floor a little distance from him instead.

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" She narrowed her eyes at him, eyeing up all the various weapons that were strapped all over his body.

"Because if I truly wanted you dead, I would have just killed you. You are a witch, no? Why not consult your cards and your spirits then decide?" She thought over his story once more.

"If you don't want innocents to die then why did you kill Elizabetta?" She interrogated, what she knew didn't seem to match with what he was telling her.

"She was a Templar also. Did they take down the red cross in her room before you arrived or not?"

"Red cross? Is that the insignia of the Templars?" She furrowed her brows, getting a much clearer view of what was at play.

"Yes. The one of the assassins is the symbol on my belt." (Y/n) found her eyes wandering down at this, seeing what Lucia had described as an arrow.

"So. . . What happens if I go back to the Doge and I interrogate him about all this?" She pressed.

"Most likely: he'd kill you. They don't like their secrets getting out." Ezio explained.

"And how. . . How do I know I'm safe with you?" She pressed, leaning forwards slightly.

"Because I see so much of myself in you. We're like-minded people, (Y/n). We want freedom, to feel safe in this world and to know that we won't be enslaved or killed for our differences. I know that justice is important to you and in the world the Templars want, justice will cease to exist." He paused, "You're tired of travelling and killing and not having a home, I can tell. You're tired of feeling like you shouldn't have been the one to survive and you have to pay for that privilege with blood. You can rest now. Come with me and you'll have everything you want and so much more." He was so close.

He couldn't tell if he was manipulating her anymore. When she walked in the room, he expected to have to jump into action and fight for his life, to reveal himself to his friend and his friend's apprentices who stood by outside. But when he sensed what she truly was — a witch —, he knew that there was so much more to her cold reputation.

She looked up at him with big glassy eyes, shimmering and dancing with tears that were just about to overspill.

"I just want my life back." She whispered, face crumpling in pain.

"I can't give you your old life back but I can make you a new one. One with a home and no more guilt. One where you can sleep knowing your people will never be wronged again."

She bit down on her lip as she thought over the tough decision. How did he know exactly what she wanted? Exactly what to say? Why had she opened up to a creature that she despised? She stopped thinking about it. All she wanted was an easy life and someone to care for her.

She looked up and nodded her head.

"What do I need to do?"


	4. A Kept Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that it's October, it's a Halloween special again lol. I can't believe it's nearly been a year since I've started this, it feels like so much less than that lol.

Every single one of her hairs stood on end as she sat in the corner of the room on the floor, stressing. She had given into the vampire, yes, but that didn’t mean that she had any intention of staying true to her word. She had been on this journey far too long to just cut it short now. She needed vengeance.

But she was in a corner both physically and mentally. Her hands raked through her loose (h/c) tresses as she kept her knees close up to her chest. It was something she did to calm her stress: get somewhere where she knew she could be safe and just think.

Ezio had told her to meet him later that night at a particular church on the west side of the city. She didn’t know what to do. He had played to some of her deepest desires perfectly and knew exactly what she had been yearning to hear for years. But that didn’t mean she trusted him. Why would he promise her, specifically, a safe life if his goals were freedom for all unless he had a hidden agenda? Once more, she lacked every piece to this elaborate puzzle. The light of the fireplace quickly began to take over the golden light of the setting sun that was slipping down over the horizon - making the sky seem like one of the paintings that (Y/n) had seen in Leonardo’s workshop earlier that day.

Her heart and mind were torn. Hell, she didn’t know what her heart wanted anymore. She previously thought that it wanted vengeance for her coven but now, it seemed to sing a different song: one of an easier life where she would be safe and cared for, free to be who she was without being killed the way her sisters were; free to love and be loved and to not have to think of all the innocent blood that was being spilt each and every day.

Yet, her mind was in disagreement. It wanted to finish this long quest, saying she would never truly be at peace until it was done. It said that humans and witches alike would be so much safer with the vampires gone. It told her that no one would care for her because of the path she had chosen to go down and that her best possible future was to finish this journey and be at peace in solitude after.

Ezio most certainly had not been wrong when he told her that she was in over her head. She had since snooped around the Doge’s study again and had uncovered letters and pages about his plans - even the Pope was involved! She was merely a witch hunter, not an assassin, not a Templar, not a monumental leader. Should she just continue to play her part then? To kill the vampire and return home, leaving the Templars to rule over Italy then surely the rest of the world soon after? Or should she finally allow change? To help Ezio and secure freedom? Wasn’t that the whole stigma of her revenge? Lack of freedom? Injustice?

Her head swam with a million questions. She could not distinguish between truth and lies at this point, this damn puzzle seeming impossible and as though it was made only to be swiped off a desk in the frustration of its impossibility.

She shot up to her feet and began pacing up and down the room rapidly. No! Her heart was foolish, her heart desired to love another and to be loved, to lead a happy and unbothered life. She knew that being a witch forbade this, it isolated her from society but she refused to give up who she was so she would simply have to continue playing her part. She knew where Ezio would be tonight. She had to end this.

♰♰♰

(Y/n) had since explained to the Doge that she had encountered the vampire while out in the city, being very careful in the way she narrated her story by leaving out any incriminating details. He had given her command over a league of guards who would be able to assist her in attacking the church, trapping the vampire inside then killing him.

The witch hunter had supplied the guards with smoke bombs and cherry bombs. Vampires had heightened senses so taking sight away could throw them off and bright flashes of light or sudden loud sounds could stun them momentarily. There were very few advantages when fighting a creature that was biologically superior in strength and sensitivity to humans, but (Y/n) had learned throughout her career to take what she could get and to make the very most out of those few precious moments which they provided.

She stood alone, the tall abandoned church dwarfing her figure. Shadows whispered and clung to the buildings like an audience anticipating the spectacle that was soon to unfold before their eyes.

The Doge’s men were hidden in nearby alleys, prepared to attack at the first suspicious noise. (Y/n) lifted her hand and beat her fist down on the large doors, causing one of them to creak open on rusted hinges, the sound echoing through the hall inside and the deathly silent streets outside, running along the cobbles and dissolving into alleys.

“Ezio? I’m here as you asked!” She called inside. She had to lure him out because she knew all too well that she could be easily taken by surprise if she entered.

“Come in, dolcezza!” His voice drawled from inside. But she could hear in his voice that he knew, she could feel it in the air.

Something powerful urged her to look up, to slowly raise her head to a statue of an angel that was perched on a ledge high up on the entrance. Beside the angel sat a woman.

Her hair was not styled, therefore, freely fell around her shoulders to her midriff. It was a toned-out brown and her skin was pale as the patched autumn moonlight. Her eyes were a vibrant green that glowed, letting off their own light and applying the only colour that she could bear. Her neck was tilted to the side at an angle and upon closer inspection, (Y/n) could see two punctures over her artery. 

Her first thought was that this naked woman was a vampire — Ezio’s accomplice and possible lover. But then the familiarity of her caused the witch hunter to freeze momentarily.

Elizabetta.

‘Leave’ she mouthed, her voice reduced to silence for the ears of a witch.

“Are you not coming in?” She was snapped back to reality by Ezio’s voice. She could see his figure in the shadows just past the threshold of the door, he reached out to offer her a hand.

“No, I want to discuss this matter with you outside.” (Y/n)’s (e/c) orbs flickered back up to Elizabetta, only to find that she was gone.

“Do not pay her any attention, she likes to play tricks.” Ezio smiled, knowing that the ghost of his victim would try to foil his plans by warning the hunter of how out of her depth she was yet again. 

“Could you step outside?” She asked again. Ezio sighed.

“No, I feel safer here and I am the one being hunted, after all.”

“So you invite the hunter into your home?” She contrasted. 

He wasn’t the one being hunted here. 

It took a mere second for her own words to sink in before he lunged forward and grabbed her arm, tugging her inside and throwing her to the floor. He knew exactly what she would do and had been anticipating an attack.

(Y/n) jumped to her feet a drew her sword.

“There are men coming now!” She exclaimed, hoping to alert the armed guards. The sound of running steps outside made her relieved.

“Wonderful.” The vampire spread his arms as he backed up to the end of the church, the doors flying open.

They were there but not. None of them wanted to be seen so (Y/n) was unable to notice them as she had with Elizabetta but they were all there: ghosts. Ragged spirits with the crooked necks of all ages and appearances. Yet they all looked the same to her: a blur of invisibility with little sparks of amber. Her mouth fell open. The guards would be utterly unaware of them.

The witch hunter tried to keep her eyes on the door without turning her back to Ezio.

“Stop!” She yelled, “They’re ghosts every—“ but the guards had already come pouring in. They were violently dragged inside, toes barely scraping the floor before they were smashed into walls and the floor, two even being flung to the ceiling and cracking the plaster before falling to their deaths.

The sight of a soldier’s ghost smashing a guard’s helmet in on the floor until it broke his skull made her feel sick. She turned back to Ezio who looked disappointed.

“I truly wanted to help you, mia bella.” He sighed, drawing his own sword from his hip, “We could have made the world a much better place together but instead, you stand by those who would end you. Why?”

She didn’t want him questioning her personal choices, to know what made her who she was, so she chose to lunge at him instead, swords clashing.

The blades locked for a moment and they were pushed closer to one another, her eyes scorching with murder and lust of vengeance as they met his.

“You smell of cinnamon. Have you called the goddess of war to aid you?” He smirked, withdrawing and they circled the other while the guards struggled to face their unseen enemies. “Your gods are dead.” He taunted, trying to get her angry enough to slip up. But her swordsmanship skills were impeccable.

“The new god is false. Fake gods are paid for with wine and song, the true gods take blood and fire.” Her teeth gritted as she swung her blade. She didn’t plan on speaking again, it would only allow him under her skin which is exactly what he wanted. 

“Oh, I hear your gods take many things. How I’d love to watch you worship Venus or Eros.” Her eyes flared and cheeks flushed at this, flustered and angered all at once. “Just give up and come to me, you know you want to. You want me to hold you while you tremble and tell you that everything’s alright, that it’s all over.”

Those last three words made her heart ache. Even out of context, that was all she needed to hear. But she couldn’t relent, not when she was this close.

He went to slash at her while she had no time to use her sword as a defence.

“Athena!” She cried out. Instead of losing her arm, Ezio’s blade came down on an arm guard that gleamed goldenly and let off a faint light. An owl’s eye was carved into it alongside other intricate Greek patterns. She kept her eyes on him.

“You cannot see the gift you’ve been given, can you?” He spoke as he withdrew the blade and the bracers vanished.

“I feel them!” She growled as she stepped forwards, sword poised. Calling on such divine favour drained her of almost all the energy at once and she knew that she had to end this fight fast.

(Y/n) made a risk in prying his sword from his hand and tossing her own one behind her shoulder but it paid off. He no longer had a sword and would have to rely on weapons that weren’t as long-range.

Before he could pull out a dagger, she rammed her shoulder into him and sent him stumbling to the floor. As she fell, she threw his sword out of reach and flung herself at him. She landed, straddling his waist, and pulled out a stake from a pouch on her belt.

The hunter gripped it tightly in her hands and raised it over her head, poised to strike. Quick as a viper, she brought it down, only to freeze just as it was about to come into contact with his clothing.

She couldn’t move.

Her eyes widened in panic as she tried to bring it down into his heart, only to remain frozen. She tried getting off his lap but couldn’t move anything other than her eyes.

“Oh, carissima, did you really think I’d let you kill me?” He laughed deeply, the sound rumbling in his chest. “No, no.” She slowly stood up against her will and stripped herself of all her weapons. “You have so much to learn still. You have to find out for yourself that it is best we work together.” He reached forward to caress her cheek with his knuckles, ever so lightly stroking her skin. “You’ll see that you’re on the wrong side. I’ll come back for you, I promise.” With that said, he took her jaw in his hand and pressed his palm to her skin.

A terrible pain bloomed in her head and she let out a cry before darkness took over. Clever, he had caused her body to shut itself down.

Robes swirling in the night’s breeze, Ezio gathered up all of his papers and fled into the night under the obscurity of darkness.

♰♰♰

The last three days had been hell.

When (Y/n) awoke, she was chained in a prison cell under the accusation of witchcraft that the few remaining guards had witnessed. The number of witnesses confirmed that there would be no trial before her execution.

She just prayed that they wouldn’t burn her.

The hunter had demanded to speak to the Doge over and over, only to be told that he dismissed each and every one of her requests; ’too busy’ the guards had told her.

She was beginning to feel filthy in that small cell with no bath and its dirty floors. The poor excuse for a bed had left her with aching limbs - it was merely a sack of straw on a wooden board.

The brick walls were covered in grime and the small barred window only allowed light in once afternoon had passed. Currently, she sat in near darkness, the candle burning low on the bare desk. (Y/n)’s ears picked up the jingling of keys contrasting the silence, echoing off her cell’s walls. She jumped to her feet, hoping for her request for a meeting to have been fulfilled or, even better, to be given a drink.

She hastily got up, facing the door and readying herself for whatever could be waiting on the other side of that damaged, thick wood. Her legs felt weak and her stomach ached for something other than the measly slice of bread which she was given each evening.

Her hair had become greasy and her skin was dirty from the unclean environment which she was being held in. She regretted ever taking baths for granted. On the other side of the door was the guard captain whom she had only ever spoken to when she had to arrange the attack on the church that had got her into this mess.

Her arm was roughly grabbed and her hands were bound behind her back as she was forced out of the cell.

“The date’s been moved.” Was all he said.

“To when?” She replied in a weak voice. She already knew the answer and the last thing she wanted was to hear him say it but she needed confirmation of her worst fears.

“Now.” The guard replied harshly as he dragged her through the dirty corridors of cells. (Y/n)’s eyes burned with tears, the grime-coated stone blurring to a murky grey around her. She had thought that she would be strong enough to not cry, but now that death was looking her in the eye, she realised that she had been foolish to think she would keep her chin up.

’Don’t burn me, don’t burn me, don’t burn me’

The words were a mantra in her mind as she prayed to each and every deity she could name, hoping that one of them would hear her and rescue her from her fate. But she could feel nothing over the fear which swallowed her whole, making her fall to her knees as a sob escaped her and the captain had to pull her to her feet again as they began to descend a flight of stairs.

She was taken out into the courtyard where a line of guards stood to attention on the right. To the left, the Doge stood alongside a priest. He had a nonchalant expression on his face, knowing he was killing both a witch and a loose end to the Templar Order. (Y/n) fell to her feet again when she saw what had been set up in the middle of them all: a wooden beam, standing upright with kindling around its base.

They were going to burn her.

She was dragged back to her feet as the light of the sun began to slip down over the horizon, painting the world fiery reds and oranges; much like the fire that would soon consume the young woman. That was it, she couldn’t bear it.

She had been weakened in the last three days but that didn’t stop her from trying to fight back. She tried to run back inside, to escape the guard’s grip. But he grabbed her by the hair and pushed her to the ground, kicking her in the side before grabbing her bound wrists and pulling her up once more now that she was too sore to fight back, pain blooming over her ribs and making her cry as she was dragged over to what would be her deathbed. She refused to take a step, her feet scraping against the ground. Eventually, she was being bound to the wood and blessed with holy water as the last of the sun’s light died behind the horizon, letting way to a dark sky of stars.

“Hurry up!” The Doge snapped, looking around the area. (Y/n)’s brows furrowed as her head began to ache from her crying, chest shuddering with each breath, lungs beginning to feel like lead. Why was he so paranoid? Why had he sped up the execution date? So many similar questions filled her mind before she realised what the answer was. The words echoed through her mind - his words:

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

Was he coming to save her? Is that why the Doge was so hastily trying to get rid of her? She could only hope that he would be here soon if he was, in fact, going to try and rescue her.

Her questions were answered when three guards fell to their knees, eyes bulging and blood dribbling from their lips in thick tendrils. The last rays of sunlight were gone. A torch was thrown to her feet and fear gutted her insides as she felt the heat sear at her ankles and lick up her calves.

The arguments of metal rang in the evening air but grew lost to her screams of agony as her skin blistered with the ever-growing heat and invading flames. She struggled and fought with all her might but the past few days had weakened her significantly.

The smoke assaulted her eyes, forcing her to close them against the pain as her cries were broken by the coughs provoked by her lungs filling with that very smoke.

She hadn’t noticed that the noise had stopped, only that she had fallen forwards into the kindling which danced with flames and heat, further burning her body. Though, she was quickly pulled from those hot tendrils, her pain intensifying when she felt hands on her severely burned legs, patting out the fire and suffocating it but prodding the burns painfully nonetheless.

She continued to sob and cry out in protest against the agony until she could open her (e/c) eyes, meeting the familiar dark brown ones that belonged to Ezio. He held her close to him with one arm while the other cupped her face, making sure she kept her eyes open.

“You’ll be ok. I’ll get you to a doctor. You’re safe.” He soothed her as he picked her up bridal style, a yelp escaping her throat when her burned flesh knocked against the fabric of his clothes, feeling like salt being rubbed into her wounds.

“Where’s the Doge?” She asked weakly.

“He got away but I’ll get him another time. You need a doctor.” She now regretted betraying him. When they first met, he told her that he would kill her if she remained in his way. She had planned a direct attack on him no less than three days ago and now he was the one saving her life when the people she had betrayed him for were the ones who had planned her execution.

“We’ll get him.” She corrected, taking a deep, shuddering breath and closing her eyes, “You were right. I should have—“

“Now’s not the time for that. We need to get your wounds treated.”

♰♰♰

Ezio sat beside her as she rested on the bed at the infirmary. He had cleaned her face with a damp cloth, carefully brushed her hair for her and made sure there was something prepared for her to eat and drink for when she woke.

He softly squeezed her hand and could feel the pulse thrumming in her fingers. It was dark in the room, minus the dim moonlight that filtered in through the window, summoning obscurity around the edges of the room. The light reflected from the water below into the window, causing silver-blue ripples to dance on the walls like an organised dance at midsummer.

He watched her gently stir, the breath of air that she took in as she awoke and how her lashes fluttered momentarily. She opened her eyes only to be greeted by more darkness, eyes yet to adjust to take in the dim light in the room. But (Y/n) could feel his cold hand holding hers and she brought it up to her chest, tucking it under her chin and closing her eyes again in thought. “Ezio…” She sighed, knowing it was him.

However, he withdrew his hand to light a candle and pass her a glass of water which she accepted gratefully.

He took it from her when she was finished and she pushed herself up to sit. She noticed that he reached forwards, hands ready to catch her or ease her back down if necessary. His eyes held worry for her and she didn’t fail to notice.

“Are you alright, mia bella?” He asked, having been reminded first-hand of how fragile mortality was.

She nodded her head, “It still hurts but it’s not as bad as when it happened.”

“Do you want something to eat?” She looked up eagerly to the orange that he offered her and she took it, uttering a ‘thank you’. She began to think as she peeled it.

“Why did you come back for me?” She asked as she reached over to drop the peel piece into the empty glass.

“Because you deserved a second chance. You were so out of your depth that the water was blinding you to what was truly at play.”

“Poetic.” She teased with a little smile as she pulled out the first segment. He chuckled.

“Really though, I knew that you had no idea what was going on. All you knew was that the Doge had something to hide and you had a vampire to kill, no?” She went silent for a moment before nodding her head, taking a bite of the fruit in her hand, “It was risky but I wanted you out of harm’s way. The Doge willingly put you in the crossfire to buy himself some time in this war and you had no clue. But you needed to see it for yourself to believe it and I’m sorry that it ended up like this.” He glanced down to where her legs were under the blanket, wrapped in bandages. He knew that she would have the scars for the rest of her life.

She glanced to the side, sighing. “I should have listened, you—“

“You don’t need to apologise. None of this was your fault.” He replied.

“But if I had met you at the church instead of planning that attack, all of this could have been avoided.” There was a pause, “I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have trusted the Doge after everything I found out, I should have made up my mind for myself instead of allowing myself to be manipulated. I should’ve met you at that damn church.”

“(Y/n),” Somehow, the use of her name caught her attention far more than any of the various petnames she was used to hearinf spill from his scarred lips, “you’ve spent the majority of your life hating and hunting my kind, did you truly expect me to believe you when you agreed to meet me? You tried to kill me before that conversation and you thought I didn’t anticipate you gathering numbers against me?” She thought over his words, feeling rather silly when she thought about it.

“If you knew that I’ve spent so many years hating vampires, why are you still helping me?” She shrugged, “Wouldn’t it make more sense to kill me now and make sure I can’t turn on you again?”

He leaned back in his chair, tossing his head around a bit in thought as he crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs a little, clearly relaxing. “It would make more sense, yes-“ He agreed, “-but I don’t want you dead. I told you that I serve a higher cause as an Assassin and I stand by that. Besides, you hunting vampires doesn’t really come from hatred, it comes from guilt, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t want to talk about that, please.” She dropped the subject, not wishing to dwell on her lost sisters during a time in which she was supposed to be recovering. She ate another piece of orange during the silence that fell over them.

When she finished the orange, he advised her to rest some more and she complied, settling down into the pillows and quickly drifting off to sleep.

Meanwhile, Ezio left through the window to where his new hideout was. He had work to do and things to prepare still, after all. (Y/n)’s recovery was important to him but the Doge had now escaped and time was of the essence.


	5. A Truce's Beginning

When (Y/n) awoke, she was in an unfamiliar room, no longer at the doctor’s. It was fairly cramped and the windows were boarded up to prevent any sunlight from getting inside, leaving the candles on the desk as the only source of light.

The bed took up most of the room albeit it, it was small and very low down. Opposite the bed was a desk and chair — papers had already been pinned above the desk and Ezio stood with his back to her and was laying some items out over the table, seemingly taking an inventory. There was a hatch on the floor which (Y/n) assumed was the exit.

She sat up and looked around, rubbing her eyes before throwing the blanket back to examine her legs — big mistake. She gasped and pulled it back over her figure, causing Ezio to turn around to face her. The vampire had heard her wake up but didn’t feel the need to turn around until hearing her sound of distress.

“Where are my clothes?!” She exclaimed, holding the sheet over her bare chest.

“Relax. It’s been a few days and I thought they needed to be cleaned. If it makes you feel any better, I sent for a woman to change you.” He continued as he crouched down beside her, watching as she held the sheet tighter and shuffled back a little. His dark eyes locked with hers for a moment before he reached for the blanket at her feet. Her hand darted out to grab his wrist, stopping him.

“What’re you doing?!”

“Checking your bandages.” He replied, “I have no ill intentions for you, (Y/n).”

“You know I can’t believe that. I tried to kill you twice and then you saved me from execution. Why would you do that unless you wanted something?” She narrowed her eyes at him. But her glare wasn’t as hard as he had seen it before: she seemed cautious, confused and painfully aware of how vulnerable she was in that moment.

“Because I want you to change your mind.” He replied, feeling her grip of his wrist soften and moving his large hand to hold her smaller one. “You’ve been on the wrong course for so long. What will killing vampires achieve? Satisfaction? Why not go out there and kill the men who took your sisters, hmm? Kill them and everyone like them who would strip you and other witches of your freedom. Stop them from putting anyone else through that pain. Fight with me, not against me. Fight for a world where we can all choose the path we lead.” The idea seemed to roll in her mind and she sighed, not wanting to share her thoughts on it just yet and raising the sheets to reveal her bandaged legs instead.

Ezio returned to the desk and grabbed a pouch before returning to her side and removing the bandages. (Y/n) hissed when he prodded her a little too hard by accident, causing him to mumble his apologies as he inspected the wound. Her skin was raw and blistered and she winced at the mere sight.

“The doctor prescribed this ointment.” He spoke as he pulled it from the pouch and (Y/n) opened and closed her palm to signal for him to hand it over. She opened the lid and smelled the contents.

“This won’t do anything. If I had my stuff, I could get the spell to cure it.” She grumbled as she handed it back over.

“Would it still be in the Doge’s home?” He queried.

“Yes, but he’s surrounded by guards now, no doubt.” She replied, “But I’m worried I’ll suffer from infection under this doctor’s work. I’ve never trusted them, we just don’t know enough about the human’s biology yet. I’ll stick to my own remedies.”

“And there are no other copies of this remedy?” He asked, raising a hand as he stood.

“No, I came across it myself by accident after a fight when I was working with whatever ingredients I could find.” She replied, frowning at her bandaged legs. “And if it’s any motivation for you, that book you stole pages from is also in that bag.”

“It is?” His eyes lit up, “Where have you kept your things?” He queried.

“The trunk at the end of the bed in the spare room.” She replied, “Though, I’m worried that they may have got rid of my things when they arrested me.”

“Va bene, I’ll send someone to check and see if they can recover your belongings.” He replied as he got up and reached for the handle of the hatch on the floor.

“Don’t go anywhere.” He finished as his head disappeared down below and the door fell back into place.

“I think my blisters are security enough for that.” She rolled her eyes before swinging her injured legs over the side of the bed, holding the sheet around her form in case Ezio came back, assuring that it was wrapped securely around her slim figure.

She stood upon the wooden floor and winced at the pain in caused, gripping onto the table to sturdy her balance - it had been a few days since she last walked and she was feeling the effects of it. She opted to lean one hand on the table in order to try and get back to her usual self, not wanting to be idle anymore.

She reached towards the pages pinned to the walls - sketches and annotated diagrams. It showed a sphere was unusual markings that was called a Piece of Eden and ‘the apple?’ hastily written beside it as well. There were annotations about some of its known abilities: mind control, illusion and so on. (Y/n) could recall a few mentions of this artefact from the book which she had stolen from the Doge’s study but these must be the pages which he had torn from it. Personally, she had been much more interested in the staff that it had documented so she thought very little of these few mentionings of the apple.

Strewn over the desk were various maps and lists: some were maps of regions in Venice with different locations circled and crossed out, some areas marked with squares around buildings. But she could not find any key to decipher what any of these meant, perhaps it was just one that Ezio had kept in his mind. There were lists of different names and information provided by contacts. There was a scroll of various papers that was bound with a black ribbon. She opened it up to reveal contracts assigned by Lorenzo de Medici.

“The Medici?!” She whisper-yelled to herself. How many people did this vampire know? The contracts spoke of enemies to the Medici rule that needed to be dealt with. Some of them were checked off by Ezio but others were yet to be completed. Perhaps he intended to finish them once his work in Venice was done?

There was a noise from below and (Y/n) looked back to the hatch, seeing Ezio climb up a ladder and re-enter the small room which they seemed to be sharing for the time being. She didn’t act hastily in rolling the contracts back up again. If he wanted her to trust him then he would allow her to know everything that was going on; especially seeing as he had previously told her how much was hidden from her beforehand.

“I’ve sent someone to try and collect your things but we can’t guarantee she’ll be successful.” He began before holding out a bundle of white silk and linen to her, seeing as all she had to protect her decency was a bedsheet. “I also got this for you, one of the ladies has let you borrow it until we can get your clothes back or buy you some new ones.”

“Thank you.” She mumbled as she took the clothing and held it out with one hand, seeing the length of it and how revealing it was.

“Is this lady a courtesan by any chance?” She scoffed as Ezio turned around to face the desk once more in order to allow her some privacy as she changed, his back now to her.

“Yes, actually. We’re above a brothel.” He replied and (Y/n) sighed as she stood on the bed (due to the lack of space) and dropped the sheet, pulling the shoulderless dress on over her head and pulling the thin layers of the skirt down, still feeling awfully revealed by the open-cut front of the dress and how the stay sewn into it barely contained her breasts. She almost fell to the floor in the process, her legs still weak, but she managed to support herself on the wall.

“Ok, I’m done.” She huffed as she pulled the front of the dress down carefully, feeling anxious about her lack of clothing underneath, all while not wanting the bodice to shift with it. Ezio looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened for a moment before flickering down her body and a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips before he looked away once more.

“I saw that,” (Y/n) grumbled as she sat down, letting her legs fall off the side of the bed.

“It was only a quick look.” He replied in a laddish tone with a hearty laugh at the end.

“Not for you, it wasn’t. I wasn’t born yesterday, Ezio, I know how quickly your kind can move when wanted.” She was replied with another laugh from him.

“Art should be admired, no?”

“You’re not doing yourself any favours in getting in my good books here.” She finished as she walked over to one of the boarded-up windows.

“Don’t touch those.” He said, not raising his gaze from one of the maps on the table.

“What’s stopping me?” She countered, knowing that she had the ability to severely injure him just by prying a board back and allowing the sunlight to pour in. An arm wrapped around her torso, restraining her arms by her sides and a blade was pressed to her throat in a moment. The cold metal rested against the hot skin of her neck and she reeled her head back to try and put some distance between herself and the weapon, ending up leaning her head back onto his shoulder.

“This.” He growled in her ear, not wanting her to get any ideas about attacking him while he was vulnerable during the time that he was treating her. He truly wanted the best for her but he would never be able to achieve that if both of them didn’t command mutual respect. She twisted her body to the left a little, elbowing him in the gut and giving her the moment she needed to turn around and shove him away.

“Still not doing you any favours for getting on my good side.” She grumbled as she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. He didn’t seem to mind her shoving him, it not really having much of an effect seeing as she was already weakened by her injuries. “Don’t do that again.” She mumbled, making her way over to the desk to watch what he was doing. After realising he had taken out a very specific map of a building, she became curious as to what it was.

“What’re you looking at?” She asked, wrapping her arms around herself as she felt a sudden chill. 

“It’s a map of the Basilica, there’s something that I need… Would you shut up?” She was taken aback for a moment after he spun in her direction to say that, opening her mouth to retort when she saw that he was, in fact, looking behind her. She turned her head and jumped backwards with a yelp, her back hitting Ezio’s chest in the small space that was the secret loft of the brothel. Suddenly she understood the chill.

She’d never been sensitive to spirits in the day, perhaps that’s why Elizabetta’s ghost had managed to appear behind her, undetected.

Her dark locks fell down her back and her eyes were a piercing green, poking like needles into whoever caught a glimpse of them. Her skin was strikingly pale and (Y/n) could see the punctures over her neck so easily in their short distance - a reminder of what Ezio was capable of doing to her. The naked ghost took a step closer as she continued to speak silently, lips moving but not a word coming out.

Whether he meant to or not, Ezio’s arm made its way around (Y/n)’s waist, trying to push her behind him in the small distance. The witch turned her head to glance up at him, seeing the look of irritation on his face as he regarded the dead woman.

“I’ve heard enough. You won’t scare me Elizabetta, and you won’t make me change my mind.” There was a pause as she clearly scoffed, (Y/n) only wishing she could hear what the spirit was saying. “Why would I listen to you? I know that your only goal is to see me fail.” His voice was rising and it was clear to (Y/n) that Elizabetta had hit a nerve.

“Begone, you’re no longer welcome here for the time being.” (Y/n) cut in, watching as the woman’s emerald eyes narrowed angrily, somewhat surprised that the huntress had even cut in before she vanished like smoke.

“What did she say?” (Y/n) quizzed, turning around to face him.

“She…"He seemed to trail off as he looked down at the woman in his arms, his hand resting on her lower back, tilting his head down to meet her gaze before closing his eyes. He sighed and stepped away, turning around, "I’m not entirely sure yet, all I know is she was trying to get under my skin and she succeeded to a degree.” He reached a hand out to smooth down the top of her hair.

“Get some rest, it’ll do you no good if you tire your legs out. We’re going to be moving once the sun sets then I’ll be heading out to see what I can find out about the Doge’s whereabouts.” (Y/n) didn’t like being told to sleep as though she were a child and it was her bedtime.

“Fine, but I won’t be staying inside your next hideout while you look for the Doge. If your courtesan doesn’t return my things, I’ll have to retrieve them myself and if I can’t then I’ll have to buy some new clothes. You may think that I’m fragile because I’m a witch, Ezio,” She added as she sat down and pulled the blanket over her lap, “but it hasn’t stopped me in the past and now that I have a new score to settle, it certainly won’t stop me now.”

“Revenge is a painful road, belleza,” Ezio spoke wearily, recalling what his own path was.

“And it seems it’s a pain we both know all too well.”


	6. A Plan Blossoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all feedback would be appreciated! <3

The light slanted down onto the market from between the rooves and alleys of the Venetian houses, light reflecting off the surfaces of the canals and casting shadows everywhere else simultaneously. She observed from the corner of her hood, shifting from foot to foot on the cobbled path as she idly turned an orange over in her hand, feeling all the pores of its skin as she counted down slowly in her head.

‘Five… Four… Three… Two… One…’

There he was, the guard, right on the dot - the same one who had doubted her vampire-hunting abilities solely for the fact that she was a woman. She looked back down at the stall, not wishing to be recognised. Having grown much too humiliated in her borrowed courtesan attire, (Y/n) had borrowed a spare set of Ezio’s clothes while he was in the basement of their new hideout: a villa belonging to a trader and his family who were currently away for a wedding in Rome. (Y/n) and Ezio would be able to camp out there for a week until they were back.

The Assassin’s robes were much too big on her: the shirt still too large despite being tucked into the trousers which were held up by the borrowed belt and had to be rolled up at the ankles. The brown cloak was stolen from a washing line and the shoes were taken from the family home they were resting in - and she was careful to not be spotted because these certainly weren’t running shoes.

The huntress had one current objective: plot her route into the Duca’s villa to retrieve her things. Apparently, the guards were on high alert and Ezio’s contact was unable to acquire (Y/n)’s belongings. Part of her wanted to kill the Duca while she was there too: throw a knife from the door while he slept, guarded by two men but she knew that this plan would only result in failure: she didn’t have that set of skills.

She placed the orange down on the market stall and eyed up the guards stationed around the villa again. If the night routine was the same, she should have a window of time to make her way into the ground floor through a window.

“Three oranges, please.” She requested of the vendor as she pulled a coin purse from her pocket. The money was Ezio’s and she was calling it 'borrowed’ to make herself feel better about it. Given the nature of their relationship, he wasn’t in much of a position to reprimand her anyway.

She pressed the coins into the man’s hands as she continued to observe the patrols from her peripheral, turning her head down when a group of guards passed her, heading straight to the villa to take over the shift. She watched as they replaced the ones who had previously been on duty, a smug grin pulling at the corners of her lips as the three oranges were handed to her, wrapped in a creme fabric.

♰♰♰

When (Y/n) returned it was with a head full of new ideas, a heart full of determination and a hand full of oranges. She quietly closed the backdoor of the house (they were using that route to avoid being seen by the neighbours) and made her way to the bedroom they were camped out in when she walked in on a most surprising sight. Her eyes widened and she quickly turned around, hands clutching the fruits within them.

“So is this whole seeing each other almost naked something you vampires do? Because I’m not so sure that I’m fond of it.” She spoke and heard a sigh behind her.

“Well, if someone hadn’t taken my clothes, I wouldn’t be like this and if someone hadn’t taken my money, I would have been able to buy new ones.” She heard the flat tone from behind her, making her laugh awkwardly. It wasn’t a nervous laugh or a dry one: it was the sort that was created to fill space, to try and call attention to itself to try and clear away another subject. Her eyes skimmed down to the terracotta-coloured tiles and the off-white walls with their large extravagant portraits that stretched down the main hall, statues dotted between them. A dark red carpet ran along the middle of the floor as well.

“Well, if your contact had been able to retrieve my stuff, I wouldn’t have had the need to borrow these things. I need a- are you decent yet?” She cut herself off, finding it too uncomfortable to talk to him with her back turned.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

“The sheets!” She snapped in response. She waited to hear the rise and fall of fabric shuffling before turning around, seeing that he had only covered his legs. It wasn’t like he was entirely naked - he had underwear on - but it was far too little for (Y/n)’s liking. She glanced over to the curtains which fluttered lightly in the breeze, the window must have been open.

He was seated on the grand four-poster bed and it’s dull white silken sheets. The room was rather bare other than a vanity, a desk and a wardrobe - all of which were mostly empty seeing as this was a guest room.

“What happened to your clothes anyway?” She mused as she set the oranges down on the bedside and tossed his coin purse back to him, noting the look of disdain on his face at noticing she had spent his money. “Look, it may not be important to you but eating is very important to me.” She added.

“There’s a passage under the villa that leads to a canal, it’s dark but it’s a good way to travel in the daytime for someone like me. What I hadn’t anticipated was the guard at the end of the tunnel who managed to push me into the water during our fight.” (Y/n) thought over his words before a bigger picture became apparent in her mind.

“When was the last time you…” She trailed off, not quite knowing how to put it in a non-alarmed way. She shot him an almost warning glance from the corner of her (e/c) eyes. He shot her a questioning look and she made her way over to the window, peeking out from the edge of the curtains and spotting his clothes laid on the sill. She held onto the velvet fabric, caressing its softness with her fingertips. An unspoken threat.

“Fed?” He questioned, seeing the witch nod her head in response, he sighed and held his hands in his lap, leaning forwards. “Too long ago.” She knew that it had been almost three weeks now. He must be starving.

“Do you plan on… I mean, I’d rather it be someone else than me.” She debated over making a joke of this, showing her trust by following this up with a laugh and walking over to the screen to change out of his clothes. But she didn’t trust him yet so she followed it up with a serious gaze, fingers wrapping around the edge of the dark and heavy curtain.

“I was planning on going out tonight.” He replied.

“What time will you be back?” She quizzed, perhaps trying to make such a dark subject seem more casual, to seem more about concern for him than for whoever he would kill later that day. She didn’t ask it the way someone would interview a murderer, how would one even go about that? No.

“Don’t wait, I won’t be back until just before the sunrise.” (Y/n) scoffed, knowing what it meant if he would be back so late.

“We have work to do and you’re going to play games?” She raised a brow and watched his face contort into offence.

“Look, it may not be important to you but eating is very important to me.” He quoted her own words from earlier.

“Yes but I don’t sleep with my food before I eat it.” She threw back, “I know how Elizabetta was found. Most of your kind like to play some sort of sick game before you go for the kill, something to get the blood pumping.” She sneered, realising that that disdain no longer sounded natural in her voice, it was becoming more forced now - a part of her that she thought was so important to her life that she almost didn’t want to let go of it, even if she knew she had to.

She knew she was now swinging, like a pendulum, between trying to earn his trust and reverting to what had almost become an instinctual prejudice. In the past, she always spoke so lowly of vampires, always slandered them at every given chance, so hellbent on revenge. Now that she owed her life to one, it didn’t feel right.

“At least I’m more civil about it - I could make them fear for their lives with a chase in the woods.” He replied as he stood up, tucking the sheet around his waist and walking towards her, delicately taking her wrist and drawing her hand away from the looming threat of the curtain. 

“Yes, because-” She began sarcastically before cutting herself off. Even if she disagreed, it wouldn’t help anything to voice that aloud. What they needed right now was to be able to trust one another. He had drawn her hand closer to him, thumb caressing her wrist and she curled her fingers inwards, hesitantly tugging her own hand back to her side, feeling him press down on her pulse before his eyes met hers and he realised that he may be putting her in a fight or flight position.

And he had learned already that she was the fighting type.

“I need to ask a favour of you…” She began, making her way back across the room and tossing her stolen cloak onto the foot of the bed.

“What is it?”

“I need you to steal something for me: the uniform of one of the Duca’s guards.” Her (e/c) eyes flitted to their corners where she caught how his brows shot up.

“Why? May I ask?” He spoke as he checked the dampness of his clothes, being mindful to keep his skin away from the sunlight.

“I want to break in, that’s why.” She replied in a cold tone, the stinging of her feet and the bite of rope against her wrists reforming in her memory, “I want my belongings back and I’ll set the bastard’s chambers alight if I’m able.” She paused as the picture of it formed in her mind: the smoke pluming from the window she would leave open, allowing it to rise up like a beacon; a sign to the man who had used her then tried to kill her once she became an inconvenience - him and everyone else in this group she still felt that she knew too little about. “I want him to be afraid.” A silence hung over the room, a pensive one.

“Do you know how to pickpocket?” Ezio spoke up and she could hear him retreat to the far side of the room, securely tucked away from any possible venturing sunlight.

“Why would I need to?” She returned with a small glance over her shoulder in his direction.

“So you can stop stealing my money and start stealing someone else’s.” He replied with a laddish smile, watching in delight as she rolled her eyes but returned his comment with a hesitant smile of her own. “If you truly want to make use of yourself, I’ll leave you in the hands of a friend of mine. She’ll teach you some skills that will come in handy if you wish to stay with me until we can finish off the Duca.”

“And this friend? Is he a vampire too?” (Y/n) knew that she could handle Ezio and that he could tolerate her but she knew that her sharp tongue and developed vampiric disdain could get her into trouble with anyone else of his kind kind.

“She is very much human. More of a political ally than one of kin.” He responded as he sat back down at the foot of the bed.

“What will she teach me? Other than pickpocketing?” The witch spoke as she seated herself down on a stool by the unlit fireplace, glancing at the ashen pit and somewhat wanting to light it, with the autumn chill snaking in through the open window.

“How to climb, keep your balance over rooftops-”

“What need do I have for-”

“Even how to climb right into the Duca’s window.” He continued, playing to her wish to set fire to the man’s room as he had ordered for her to be burned. He could see the intrigue in her eyes now, the way she looked up from beneath her lashes.

“It’s probably best that you start making contacts in Venice seeing as you’ve lost all of them now.”

“The word 'lost’ doesn’t quite seem to portray that they tried to execute me… with fire.” She replied with a sigh and an undertone of bitterness at the memory.

“How have your legs been feeling?” He asked out of concern. It often slipped his mind just how fragile she was compared to him. He watched as part of her dropped a little and she brought her legs up on the stool with her, crossing them.

“I don’t think that the scars that will go away. The worst of it is at my ankles but some of them stretch up my calves a bit.” She bit down on her lip and one of her hands went to rub at the puckered flesh there under her socks, having already toed off her stolen shoes. “My legs feel better though, stronger than they were at the start of this anyway. I hope your friend will go easy on me.” She added a laugh at the end of the phrase but it came out drily - Ezio could tell that she was still thinking about her injuries. Perhaps, he thought, she didn’t even care that she would have to live with a memento of it for the rest of her life; perhaps it was because she could live with them while all those in her coven died with them.

They passed the next hour in conversation before (Y/n) made her way to the drawing-room where a shelf of books had caught her interest the previous day. She nestled herself in the window seat (with the curtains drawn, of course) and began reading a copy of Illiad.

A good amount of pages in, the shimmer of a blade caught her attention from her peripheral. There stood Ezio, in his clothes once more, with one sword at his hip and the other being held out to her in offering.

“What? Want to lose?” (Y/n) mused with a teasing grin on her lips as she set the book down.

“You haven’t practised in weeks. I’ve been keeping up.” He reminded her as she took the blade and rolled her shoulders, getting into a fighting stance as he drew his own blade from his hip.

“You don’t forget how to wield a sword.” She began before darting towards him, using the element of surprise by attacking halfway through the phrase.

The clash of steel rang through the room until it grew dark and (Y/n) grew tired. She fell down into the bed of the guest room they had selected for their stay (they tried to keep to as few rooms as possible in order to avoid leaving any trace of their presence in the house). The witch had grown exhausted from so many hours of sparring.

She looked to the end of the bed where Ezio was now fastening his belt and armour of his robes. But her body was now both weakened and tired and she rolled over, bringing the blankets around her figure as she did so.

Ezio made his way to where she lay and reached for the thicker comforter at the end of the bed, throwing it over her body to keep her warm, knowing that her body was much more prone to the cold than his. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing had now slowed as her head sank into the softness of the pillow which lulled her to sleep. The man reached his hand out to brush the hair back from her (s/t) complexion before cupping her jaw, leaning down to press his cold lips to her warm cheek which only grew warmer as her nose scrunched up a little and she turned her head into the pillow more.

“Go and get something to eat.” She murmured and he hummed, almost not wanting to leave her. It was rare for him to see her so peaceful, he had stood in the doorway for a few minutes just to admire her reading before offering to spar earlier for this very same reason.

With reluctance, his hand fell from her warm skin and he vanished into the Venetian night.


End file.
